🚀 Pipeline Results Report

Truth! I shall speak you if I am in habit of listening to you,A whisper first, then a murmur, a tide that softly grew.For silence often cloaks the mind, a shroud of easy lies,And comfort weaves its silken threads, obscuring honest skies.I’ve walked the paths of quietude, where echoes softly fade,And let the world’s cacophony, my inner voice invade.The clamor of convenience, the hum of what is known,Has often drowned the subtle call, the seeds of truth unsown.But now, a shift, a gentle turn, a leaning to the ear,To catch the rustle of your cloak, the message drawing near.No longer just a fleeting thought, a shadow in the night,But something sought, a guiding star, a beacon burning bright.For how can I articulate, the essence of your form,If I’ve not felt your steady hand, through sunshine and through storm?So let me learn your cadence, Truth, your rhythm and your grace,And then, with voice unwavering, I’ll find your rightful place.To speak you not as duty bound, but as a breath I take,A natural, vital utterance, for honesty’s own sake.

Truth! I shall speak you if I am in habit of listening to you,A whisper first, then a murmur, then a roar,Not born of sudden light, but slow-won view,From quiet chambers, where my spirit boreThe weight of silence, and the hum of doubt.For many years, my tongue was tied and bound,By fear of judgment, or the world without,Where easy fictions, comfortingly sound,Replaced the stark, unvarnished, sharp-edged gleam.I chased the echoes, not the source of sound,Lost in the labyrinth of a waking dream,Where self-deception, subtly profound,Built walls of solace, fragile, yet so tall.But now, a stirring, deep within the core,A quiet turning, answering your call.I’ve learned to listen, more than ever before,To the still voice, that rises through it all.The clamor fades, the whispers grow more clear,The habit forming, like a steady tide.And as I hear you, banishing all fear,Then, Truth, I promise, I shall be your guide.

Truth! I shall speak you if I am in habit of listening to you,A whisper first, then a murmur, a tide that softly grew.For years I walked in shadows, where echoes held their sway,Believing tales of comfort, that brightened every day.But something stirred within me, a quiet, insistent plea,To turn my ear to silence, and truly hear what could be.The world, it hummed with secrets, not always sweet or kind,And in that hum, a resonance, a truth I hoped to find.I learned to still the clamor, the voices loud and bold,To seek the subtle currents, the stories yet untold.The rustle of the autumn leaves, the sigh of winter's chill,The patient growth of spring's embrace, upon a barren hill.And in that deep communion, with all that simply is,I found your voice, O Truth, a gentle, clear abyss.No longer just a concept, a distant, shining star,But woven in the fabric, of who and what we are.So now, when words are forming, and thoughts begin to bloom,I check if I have listened, dispelling every gloom.For only then, with reverence, and spirit open wide,Can I truly speak your essence, with nothing left to hide.

Truth! I shall speak you if I am in habit of listening to you,A whisper first, then a murmur, then a roar,Through the clamor of the self, the world's loud hue,To discern your cadence, to unlock your door.For silence is your language, not the hurried word,Not the bluster of conviction, the ego's plea,But the quiet space where insight is conferred,Where the heart, unburdened, finally can see.How often have I chattered, filling empty air,With half-formed thoughts, opinions lightly worn,Ignoring the deep resonance, the wisdom rare,That from your patient counsel is truly born.So let me cultivate the stillness, sharp and keen,To hear the subtle currents of your flow,To learn the lessons whispered, though unseen,And from that sacred listening, truly grow.Then, when I speak, it will not be my voice alone,But yours, reverberating, clear and true,A beacon shining, steadfastly shown,The habit of my listening, speaking you.

Truth! I shall speak you if I am in habit of listening to you,a quiet hum, a whisper, in the din of what I pursue.For often, clamor drowns your gentle, steady beat,and I, distracted, chase the sweet and swift deceit.My ears are tuned to echoes, not the source, the clear spring's rise,to flattering whispers, not the wisdom in your candid eyes.I build my castles on the shifting sands of what I wish were so,and wonder why the foundations crack, the structures ebb and flow.But if I learn to still the urgent, grasping, hungry mind,to seek the silence where your subtle presence I can find,then from that stillness, words will flow, untainted, pure, and bright,reflections of the knowing, born of listening to your light.No longer straining, forcing, to construct a clever guise,but simply breathing out the essence that within me lies.For truth, when truly heard, becomes the very voice I lend,a faithful echo of the wisdom that will never end.

Truth! I shall speak you if I am in habit of listening to you,A whisper first, then louder, through the din.For silence breeds a rot, a sickly hue,And in that quiet, falsehood finds its kin.I’ve walked with shadows, danced with artful lies,Believed the tales my weary heart would spin.But now, a tremor through the darkness flies,A stirring deep, where honesty begins.To hear your voice, a melody so clear,Unburdened by the clamor of the crowd.To shed the cloak of comfort, banish fear,And let your stark reality be avowed.For habit forms, a pathway worn and deep,And if I train my ear, my soul to bend,To secrets that the quiet moments keep,Then truth, my steadfast guide, will be my friend.No longer will I falter, turn away,From what my inner compass bids me see.For listening leads to speaking, come what may,And in that speaking, I am finally free.

Truth! I shall speak you if I am in habit of listening to you,a quiet echo in the soul’s deep view.For many years, I built a shell,of polished lies and tales to tell.I wore a mask, a painted smile,and walked a path of self-denial.But silence came, a sudden guest,and in its hush, I found no rest.The whispers grew, a gentle tide,of all the truths I tried to hide.They spoke of flaws, of fears untold,of stories etched in spirit old.And in that listening, soft and slow,a different kind of strength did grow.No longer bound by what I seemed,but by the self I truly dreamed.So now, my voice, though sometimes frail,will follow truth along its trail.For in the habit of its grace,I find my power, find my place.

Truth! I shall speak you if I am in habit of listening to you,a quiet echo in the mind's soft hue.For often, silence cloaks your gentle plea,and bustling thoughts eclipse your clarity.I've sought you in the grand pronouncements made,in books of lore, in wisdom long displayed.But you, it seems, reside not on the shelf,but in the chamber of my listening self.The clamor of the world, a vibrant din,can drown the whispers that you hold within.And ego's shield, a polished, gleaming face,can turn away from your unvarnished grace.So let me practice, daily, to attend,to what your subtle promptings truly send.To hush the noise, and let the static cease,and find within your quiet, perfect peace.For only then, when truly I have heard,can I give voice to your most sacred word.And speak you forth, not as a practiced art,but as the honest rhythm of my heart.

Truth! I shall speak you if I am in habit of listening to you,a quiet echo in the soul's deep, misty hue.For often, you whisper, a breeze through the trees,but my ears are tuned to the world's loud decrees.I chase the bright baubles, the clamor and gleam,the fleeting applause, a shimmering dream.And your gentle insistence, a soft, steady hum,is lost in the bustle, before it can cometo the forefront of mind, where decisions are made,where the spirit is tested, and courage displayed.I’ve built up these walls, of comfort and ease,where inconvenient insights are hushed by the breeze.But a yearning arises, a hunger for grace,to stand in your light, in your hallowed space.To unlearn the rushing, the fear, and the doubt,and let your pure wisdom finally ring out.So grant me the stillness, the patience to hear,the softest of promptings, dispelling all fear.Then, born from that listening, a voice will arise,and I shall speak Truth, reflecting your skies.

Truth! I shall speak you if I am in habit of listening to you,a quiet echo, often unheard,in the cacophony of what is new,a whisper, not a shouted word.For many years, my ears were shut,to your soft pleas, your subtle guide.I carved my path, then hit a rut,with nothing left for me to hide.I sought for solace, then for peace,in echoes of a louder throng.But found that comfort brought no ease,where what felt right was often wrong.Now, in the quiet, I incline,my head to catch your fleeting grace.A habit formed, a slow design,to find you in this crowded space.And if I learn to truly hear,the gentle rhythm of your beat,then speaking you, without all fear,will make my life profoundly sweet.For truth, once found, becomes the tongue,a melody, both clear and strong.

Truth! I shall speak you if I am in habit of listening to you,a whisper, a sigh, a drumbeat low and true.For silence breeds a rot within the soul,a festering of fictions, taking hold.My ears, long dulled by the din of the mundane,now strain to catch your subtle, soft refrain.I seek your face, unmasked by flattering light,beyond the shadows of the fading night.No longer bound by what I wish to hear,but by the clarity that conquers fear.To strip away the comfort of the lie,and gaze unflinching at the open sky.For habit shapes the pathways of the mind,and in your steady rhythm, peace I find.So let my voice, once hesitant and weak,resound with echoes of the words you speak.A vessel clear, a conduit of grace,reflecting light in every time and place.No longer captive to the easy phrase,but championing your light through all my days.For in your speaking, I am truly free,and in your listening, I become, more me.

Truth! I shall speak you if I am in habit of listening to you,a quiet practice, a whispered hue.For often you arrive, unbidden, unforeseen,a sudden gust where only silence had been.And I, engrossed in the hum of my own affairs,the tangled threads of my daily cares,have let you pass, a ghost without a name,a flickering shadow, a forgotten flame.But now I strive to hone a keener ear,to quell the clamor, to conquer fear.To strip away the comforts I embrace,the gentle fictions, my accustomed space.To hear your cadence in the rustling leaves,the silent wisdom that the night wind weaves.In broken whispers, or a thund'rous roar,I'll stand expectant at your open door.For only then, when truly I have heard,can my own voice echo your every word.A willing vessel, emptied and made clear,to speak the truth, no longer bound by fear.

Truth! I shall speak you if I am in habit of listening to you,A whisper first, then a murmur, a tide that softly flows.For often, in the clamor of the world, your voice is lost,Drowned by the urgent, the dazzling, the things that costToo much of quietude, of space within the mind.I chase the echo, the shadow you leave behind.But if I learn to hush the clamor, the insistent pleaOf ego and desire, and simply learn to be,To turn an ear inward, where your gentle current runs,Unfettered by the dogma, the setting and rising sunsOf popular opinion, or the well-worn, easy lie,Then from my lips, unbidden, your pure words will fly.For habit breeds a comfort, a path well-trod and clear,And if my habit is to welcome you, to banish fearOf what your starkness brings, the places you reveal,Then speaking you becomes as natural as to feelThe sun upon my skin, the rhythm of my breath,A living testament, defying even death.

Truth! I shall speak you if I am in habit of listening to you,A quiet echo, not a clamorous hue.For often, you arrive, a whisper soft and low,Lost in the mind's own restless ebb and flow.I've chased the fleeting shadow, the bright and bold display,While you, a steady lantern, lit a simpler way.How many times have I, in hurried, anxious stride,Dismissed your gentle counsel, pushing you aside?Convinced that louder voices held the greater sway,I built my castles on foundations made of clay.But now, the dust has settled, the grand illusions fade,And in the quiet moments, your true form is laid.So let me cultivate a silence deep and wide,A fertile ground where your wise whispers can reside.To learn the rhythm of your honest, patient plea,To shed the noise that blinds my inner eye to see.Then, when my lips next open, free from fear and art,My words will be the echo of your truth within my heart.

Truth! I shall speak you if I am in habit of listening to you,A curious pact, a whisper, soft and low.For often, you arrive, a sudden, startling hue,While I, engrossed in clamor, let you go.You bloom in quiet corners, where the dustOf old assumptions settles, soft and deep.You dance in shadows, where my ingrained mistrustHas built a fortress, secrets it would keep.But if I train my ear, to catch the faintest chime,The subtle shift, the silence, or the sigh,Then will my tongue, released from habit's binding grime,Proclaim your presence, reaching for the sky.No longer deafened by the world's loud boast,Nor swayed by comfort's sweet, deceptive song,I’ll seek your rhythm, like a long-lost ghost,And find the courage where I once felt wrong.To speak you, Truth, requires a practiced art,A dedication, honed by patient grace.To hear your voice, and then to play my part,And let your honest light illuminate this place.

Truth! I shall speak you if I am in habit of listening to you,a whisper in the bustling market, a silent, knowing view.For many years, I chased the echo, a phantom, fleeting sound,believing it resided always on some distant, hallowed ground.I sought you in the fervent sermon, the scholar's weighty tome,in ancient, cracked philosophies, far from my simple home.I polished clever arguments, a mirror for the light,but often found myself reflecting only shades of night.Then came the quiet turning, a stillness in the din,a recognition of the voice that lived and breathed within.Not thundering pronouncements, nor dazzling, sudden gleam,but patient, steady cadence, like a half-remembered dream.It spoke through honest sorrow, the joy that swelled and broke,in patterns of the seasons, the words the spirit spoke.No longer just a stranger, a concept to pursue,but woven in the fabric, the very core of "you."So now, when doubt assails me, or shadows start to creep,I pause, and draw a breath, and listen, still and deep.For truth is not a treasure found, but presence, ever near,and speaking it becomes the act of banishing all fear.

Truth! I shall speak you if I am in habit of listening to you,A quiet echo, not a clamorous hue.For often, in the din of my own mind,Your subtle whisper, I forget to find.I chase the glitter, the quick, fleeting gleam,Convinced that novelty is wisdom's dream.I craft narratives, convenient and neat,Ignoring murmurs, bitter-sweet.But when I pause, and let the silence grow,And watch the currents of my being flow,A different cadence starts to softly chime,A melody that transcends space and time.It's then I hear you, clear as mountain air,A gentle nudge, a truth beyond compare.Not thundering judgment, nor a fiery sign,But simply what *is*, perfectly aligned.And having heard, with open, humble ear,The urge to voice you banishes all fear.For truth, once welcomed, finds its natural way,A beacon shining, lighting up the day.

Truth! I shall speak you if I am in habit of listening to you,A whisper in the clamor, a voice often new.For years, I've chased echoes, the world's shifting sound,While your steady heartbeat lay deep underground.I've sought you in volumes, in reasoned debate,Unknowing your presence, so close to my state.Like a half-remembered melody, a half-seen light,You've hovered at dawn, and throughout the long night.Now I turn from the clamor, the jingle and plea,To the quiet that settles, revealing just me.And there, in the stillness, a knowing takes hold,A narrative ancient, yet fresh to unfold.So speak, Truth, I'm ready, my ears are now keen,To the wisdom that blossoms, unseen, yet serene.For in listening deeply, with heart open wide,Your resonant echoes will truly abide.

Truth! I shall speak you if I am in habit of listening to you,A whisper first, a quiet, gentle plea.For often do I shout, and often do I sue,But seldom do I bend a knee to thee.My ears are stuffed with clamor, loud and bold,The siren song of comfort, soft and deep.The tales I weave, the fictions I have sold,While your still voice, unheard, begins to sleep.Yet sometimes, in the hush of fading day,When shadows lengthen, and the world grows still,A tremor runs, a doubt begins to play,And then, your presence, subtle, starts to fill.A sudden clarity, a piercing ray,Through tangled thoughts, a path begins to gleam.And in that moment, I begin to pray,To shed the dross, and wake from every dream.So teach me, Truth, to quiet my own din,To sift the chaff, and find the honest grain.For only then, will your clear words beginTo echo forth, and purge away the pain.Then, from my lips, you'll flow, a living stream,No longer bound by habit's heavy chain.

Truth! I shall speak you if I am in habit of listening to you,A whisper first, a subtle, gentle cue.For often do I shout, with booming, brazen might,Yet hear not the soft echoes of your light.My mind, a marketplace of clamorous desire,Where ego’s hawkers peddle smoke and fire.And thus, your quiet wisdom, like a fading star,Is lost amidst the din, however near or far.But if I learn to hush the clamor, still the fray,To let the inner chatter slowly drift away,Then will your ancient melody begin to rise,Reflected in the depths of understanding eyes.No longer just a concept, cold and abstract,But breath within my lungs, a living, vital fact.Then speaking you becomes no effort, no grand feat,But natural as breathing, utterly complete.For when the ear of spirit truly starts to hear,The tongue of honesty will banish every fear.And truth, once listened to, will flow, a crystal stream,A constant, gentle current, not a fleeting dream.

Truth! I shall speak you if I am in habit of listening to you,A whisper first, then a murmur, then a voice so clear and new.For years I sought you in the echoes of the world's loud boast,In the polished lies and the gilded tales, where you were almost lost.I built my fortress of denial, brick by careful, comforting lie,And in its shadows, my own true self began to wither and to die.I spoke of wisdom, yet my words were hollow, borrowed, thin,A mimicry of knowing, never truly letting wisdom in.But then, a stillness, unexpected, in the clamor and the rush,A quiet space where the inner ear began to softly hush.And in that silence, like a spring from rock, you started to emerge,Not as a thunder, but a gentle, undeniable, vital surge.You spoke of courage, not the bravado of a fleeting, fiery show,But the steady strength to face the seeds of doubt that in my garden grow.You spoke of kindness, not the saccharine mask of false delight,But the honest empathy that banishes the lonely, starless night.Now, listening is my practice, a discipline I strive to keep,To hear the honest murmurings from oceans wide and caverns deep.And as I learn to truly listen, to your rhythm, soft and slow,Then Truth, I promise, I shall speak you, letting your pure essence flow.

Truth! I shall speak you if I am in habit of listening to you,A whisper first, then a murmur, a tide that softly flows.For often, in the clamor, the world's insistent hue,Your gentle, steady rhythm is lost before it grows.I've chased the fleeting shadows, the echoes of the crowd,Believed the polished surfaces, the stories neatly spun.My own inner compass, sometimes muffled, sometimes bowed,Forgot the quiet wisdom, before the day was done.But now, a different cadence, a stillness I embrace,To tune my inner ear, to hear your subtle plea.No longer just a concept, a distant, abstract space,But a living, breathing presence, residing deep in me.So let the habit deepen, this sacred, silent art,Of hearing what is honest, within and all around.Then, from this grounded knowing, a voice will truly start,And truth, unburdened, vibrant, will finally be found.

Truth! I shall speak you if I am in habit of listening to you,A quiet echo, a whispered hue.For often I clamor, a noisy plea,And miss the soft cadence you offer to me.You dwell in the silence, the space between,The unsaid knowing, the unseen sheen.Not always a thunder, a blinding light,But often a glimmer, a star in the night.I chase the loud echoes, the popular sway,The comforting fictions that brighten my day.And you, like a shy bird, take flight from my hand,Unheard in the clamor, misunderstood in the land.So teach me to listen, with heart open wide,To the subtle distinctions where you often hide.To quiet the ego, the need to be right,And welcome your presence, a guiding pure light.Then, when I utter, with voice clear and strong,It will be your essence, where I truly belong.Not just a performance, a duty to do,But a resonant echo, a part of me, Truth, speaking you.

Truth! I shall speak you if I am in habit of listening to you,A whisper first, then louder, a voice I learn to trust anew.For years, I built my fortress, brick by careful, silent lie,A polished, gleaming edifice beneath a clouded, watchful sky.But echoes from the chasm, where honesty once slept,Began to stir and murmur, promises I’d keptBuried deep beneath the rubble of convenient, soft deceit,A bitter taste, a hollow ache, a victory bittersweet.Now, the silence stretches, a canvas stark and bare,And in that quiet breathing, a new awareness starts to shareIts gentle, firm insistence, a current in the air.To truly speak you, Truth, I must first learn to careEnough to hear your murmurs, your subtle, guiding hand,To sift through all the clamor, the shifting, sinking sand.For habit is a master, both tyrant and a guide,And if I learn to listen, your wisdom will abide.

{'response': "Truth! I shall speak you if I am in habit of listening to you,\nFor silence often breeds a subtle, creeping hue\nOf doubt and fear, that chokes the nascent word.\nMy tongue, a vessel, by your wisdom stirred,\nWill echo forth the whispers you impart,\nNot from a fleeting thought, but from the heart\nThat's learned to quiet its own clamorous plea,\nTo hear the steady rhythm, wild and free,\nOf what is real, unvarnished, stark, and true.\nIf I have walked the path where you imbue\nEach step with clarity, each breath with grace,\nThen in the public square, or private space,\nMy voice will rise, unburdened, strong, and clear,\nDispelling shadows, banishing all fear.\nFor listening first, a sacred, silent art,\nPrepares the ground for truth to play its part,\nAnd blossom forth, a testament to sight,\nIlluminating darkness with its light.\nSo let me learn your language, deep and slow,\nBefore I dare to let your currents flow\nThrough me, a conduit, a living stream,\nReflecting back your everlasting gleam.", 'probability': 1.0}

{'response': 'Truth! I shall speak you if I am in habit of listening to you,\nFor silence often breeds a subtle, creeping hue\nOf doubt and fear, that chokes the honest word.\nMy tongue, a servant, waits to be conferred\nWith wisdom gleaned from whispers in the air,\nFrom quiet moments, free from worldly care.\nTo hear your gentle hum, your steady, soft refrain,\nRequires a stillness, washing out the stain\nOf hurried thoughts, of clamor and of strife.\nOnly then, can I embrace your vibrant life.\nIf I have trained my ear to catch your faintest sigh,\nThen from my lips, your pure essence shall fly.\nNo longer bound by fear, no longer held in thrall,\nMy voice, a vessel, answering your call.\nSo let me cultivate this sacred, inner ear,\nTo banish falsehood, banish every fear.\nFor in that listening, a courage starts to bloom,\nTo speak your light, dispelling every gloom.', 'probability': 1.0}

{'response': 'Truth! I shall speak you if I am in habit of listening to you,\nFor silence often breeds a subtle, creeping hue\nOf doubt and fear, that chokes the honest word.\nMy ears, attuned to whispers, long unheard,\nWill catch your subtle cadence, soft and low,\nBefore the clamor of the world can grow\nToo loud to pierce the shell of my own mind.\nTo truly speak you, I must first unbind\nThe knots of preconception, shed the guise\nOf knowing all, and open up my eyes\nTo what you truly are, not what I wish.\nThis daily practice, like a silent fish\nThat swims the depths to find the purest stream,\nWill make my tongue a vessel for your gleam.\nSo let my listening be a constant art,\nA quiet cultivation of the heart,\nThat when the moment calls, without a pause,\nI may proclaim you, free from all false laws.', 'probability': 1.0}

{'response': "Truth! I shall speak you if I am in habit of listening to you, a whisper soft, a thunder's roar, a melody that's ever new. For silence holds a sacred space, where echoes of your essence dwell, a knowing deep, a gentle grace, a story only time can tell. I've sought you in the hurried rush, in clamor of the daily grind, but found you in the quiet hush, the secrets that the heart can find. To speak your name, a sacred vow, demands a soul attuned and clear, a mind that bends, a spirit bowed, to wisdom whispered in the ear. So let me learn your subtle art, the language of the genuine, before I dare to play my part, and let your brilliance truly shine. For words unearned are empty sound, a hollow echo, weak and frail, but born of listening, profound, they cut through every misty veil.", 'probability': 1.0}

{'response': "Truth! I shall speak you if I am in habit of listening to you, a whisper soft, a thunder's roar, a subtle hum, a knocking door. For silence breeds a shallow mind, where echoes of myself I find. But when I bend an ear to hear the world's deep song, dispelling fear, then clarity begins to bloom, dispelling shadows, chasing gloom. The rustle of the autumn leaf, the ocean's sigh, a moment brief, the silent plea, the joyous shout, all lessons learned, beyond a doubt. My tongue, a servant to my ear, will then articulate what's clear. No longer bound by self-deceit, but anchored firm, a wisdom sweet. So let me listen, deeply, long, to find the truth within the throng of voices, quiet, loud, and true, and then, my Truth, I'll speak of you.", 'probability': 1.0}

{'response': 'The whispered word, a silent, soft decree,Truth! I shall speak you if I am in habit of listening to you.Not from a sudden, fleeting, bold decree,But from a deep-set, cultivated view.For truth, a phantom, shy and often hid,Does not reveal its face to hasty call,Unless the ear has long been gently bidTo catch its rustling, ere it starts to fall.The clamor of the world, a constant din,Can drown the subtle murmur, faint and low,But patient quiet, letting wisdom in,Allows the seed of honesty to grow.So let my soul be fertile ground, prepared,To hear the unadorned, the stark, the real,Before a single syllable is shared,And what I utter, truly I can feel.No empty echo, hollow, thin, and weak,But resonance from depths profoundly known,For only then, my honest voice will speak,A truth that truly I have made my own.', 'probability': 1.0}

{'response': "The whispers came, a soft, persistent plea,Truth's gentle current, flowing wild and free.But often deaf, to inner sense I'd be,Lost in the clamor of what seemed to be.The world's loud chatter, an incessant drone,Made silent wisdom feel so far alone.Yet, 'Truth! I shall speak you if I am in habit of listening to you,'A promise whispered, as my spirit grew.For listening first, to conscience's quiet hum,Unlocks the voice, where honest words become.No sudden outburst, born of fleeting whim,But seasoned knowledge, reaching to the brim.A careful ear, attuned to what is real,The truest guide, for what I then reveal.To speak with courage, not a baseless claim,But from a heart that knows its rightful name.So let me learn, to hear before I preach,The silent lessons that my soul can teach.", 'probability': 1.0}

{'response': "Truth! I shall speak you if I am in habit of listening to you,\nNot a whisper, not a murmur, but a roar, clear and true.\nFor how can I parrot words I haven't let sink deep inside,\nOr share the wisdom's solace if its presence I have denied?\nThe echo chamber of my mind, a solitary, echoing hall,\nReflects only silence if no genuine voices call.\nSo first, I must unbar the gates, let silence fall away,\nAnd welcome every nuance, every dawning of the day.\nEach rustle in the leaves, each secret that the night does keep,\nEach broken promise, every joy that makes the spirit leap.\nTo hear the unsaid, the unspoken, the heart's most tender plea,\nTo truly understand, before I claim to set it free.\nFor truth is not a garment donned, then carelessly cast aside,\nBut woven into being, where deep understanding can reside.\nAnd only then, when listening's art has made my spirit keen,\nWill I speak you, Truth, with clarity, vibrant and serene.", 'probability': 1.0}

{'response': 'The quiet hum, a whisper low and deep,\nTruth\'s subtle current, secrets it does keep.\nNot shouted loud, nor brandished like a sword,\nBut gently sought, each murmured, hidden word.\nFor if my ears are deafened by my pride,\nOr only hear the thoughts I hold inside,\nHow then can clarity begin to bloom?\nHow can my voice dispel the shadowed gloom?\n\n"Truth! I shall speak you if I am in habit of listening to you," \nA covenant with wisdom, ever new.\nA practice honed, a discipline of mind,\nTo hear the unseen, the truth I hope to find.\nBefore the tongue can form its earnest plea,\nThe inner ear must truly learn to see.\nTo welcome doubt, to question what I claim,\nAnd let the quiet wisdom fan the flame.\nOnly then, from silence, pure and clear,\nWill honest words emerge, dispelling fear.\nMy voice, a vessel, not a forceful hand,\nBut guided by the truths I understand.\nSo let me listen, deeply, truly, long,\nThen speak your presence, where it does belong.', 'probability': 1.0}

{'response': "Truth! I shall speak you if I am in habit of listening to you, a whisper soft, a booming sound. For silent ears, no voice can break, no wisdom gained, no ground to make. The clamor of the world outside, a symphony where truths reside. But if my soul, attuned and keen, perceives the echoes, truly seen, then from my lips, unbidden, free, your pure, unvarnished form will be. No mask I'll wear, no slight disguise, for I've beheld you with open eyes. The quiet moments, deep within, where inner dialogues begin, they shape the words that I release, a testament to inner peace. To hear your subtle, gentle plea, then grant your voice through honesty. This sacred bond, a whispered vow, to speak your essence, here and now, if I have learned to bend my ear, and quell the doubt, and banish fear. For only then, when truly heard, can I transmit your vital word.", 'probability': 1.0}

{'response': "Truth! I shall speak you if I am in habit of listening to you, a whispered vow in the soul's deep core. For words unheeded, a silent, empty hue, leave honesty ajar, but never truly pour. To utter verity, a sacred, solemn plea, requires an ear attuned to whispers, soft and low. The inner voice, the conscience, wild and free, must first be heard, for seeds of truth to grow. If cacophony of self, a constant, jarring sound, drowns out the gentle hum of what is right, then how can candor from my lips be found? How can I champion pure, unblemished light? No, first the stillness, then the humble, listening ear, before the bold pronouncement, crystal clear.", 'probability': 1.0}

{'response': "Truth, a whispered shadow, a fleeting gleam,\nI swear I'll voice you, a lucid dream.\nBut first, my ears must open wide and deep,\nTo hear the secrets that your essence keeps.\nFor if I walk in silence, deaf and blind,\nHow can your wisdom ever truly find\nA passage through my lips, a clear-toned call?\nMy voice would falter, stumble, rise, then fall.\nSo teach me patience, in the quiet hum,\nThe gentle murmur from where you become.\nLet me absorb you, like a thirsty ground,\nBefore my tongue attempts to make a sound.\nFor empty vessels make the loudest din,\nAnd truth, when spoken falsely, can't begin\nTo resonate with purpose, strong and true.\nI must be schooled, O Truth, in heeding you.\nThen, from that wellspring, deep within my soul,\nYour honest current, making me whole,\nWill flow unfettered, bold and unafraid,\nThe purest utterance, by listening made.", 'probability': 1.0}

{'response': "Upon the stage where shadows play, and whispers dance and fade away, I stand, a vessel, frail and slight, awaiting dawn, escaping night. For truth, a sovereign, silent queen, demands a loyalty, a scene where quiet patience takes its hold, before a story can unfold. 'Truth! I shall speak you if I am in habit of listening to you,' a pact I make, both deep and true. Not in the clamor, loud and bold, but in the echoes, stories told. To hear the rustle of the breeze, the wisdom carried through the trees, the subtle shifts, the gentle hum, before my own pronouncements come. For speaking truth is not a shout, but understanding, without doubt. A cultivated inner ear, dispelling every doubt and fear. So let me listen, deeply, long, to find my footing, firm and strong, and then, with purpose, clear and bright, I'll bring your essence into light.", 'probability': 1.0}

{'response': "The whisper soft, the silent plea,Truth! I shall speak you if I am in habit of listening to you.For in the quiet, where shadows flee,Your gentle murmur, I must imbue.No sudden burst, no fiery claim,But cultivated, slow-grown grace,A seed of insight, whispering your name,Reflected in my mind's deep space.If I have tuned my inner ear,To subtle shifts, to honest sound,Then from my lips, you shall appear,On solid ground, forever bound.Not a mere echo, hollow, vain,But substance born of deep respect,A practiced art, through sun and rain,Your pure existence, I'll project.So let me learn your ebb and flow,Your secret language, soft and low,Before I claim to make you known,A sacred trust, truly sown.", 'probability': 1.0}

{'response': "Upon the stage where shadows play and dance,Truth! I shall speak you if I am in habit of listening to you.A whispered plea, a hesitant, shy glance,Before the word, the quiet, thoughtful clue.For how can voice give form to what's unseen,If inner ear has never caught the sound?A silent pact, between what is and's been,Where understanding's fertile ground is found.The truth, a stream, that murmurs, soft and low,Not always grand, nor shouting from the height,But in the hum, where gentle currents flow,It waits for ears attuned to morning light.So let me learn your rhythm, subtle beat,Before my tongue presumes to set you free,Lest empty echoes make your essence fleet,And what I claim as truth, a lie shall be.For listening first, a humble, wise embrace,Allows the spirit to discern your core,And then, with grace, and in your proper place,My voice will rise, and truly you'll outpour.", 'probability': 1.0}

{'response': "The whispers come, a gentle, urging hum,\nFrom hidden corners where the shadows run.\nTruth, you are not a trumpet's sudden blast,\nBut quiet murmurs, meant to truly last.\nI train my ear, a patient, humble quest,\nTo hear your cadence, putting doubt to test.\nFor if I turn away, ignore your plea,\nHow can I then proclaim what sets me free?\nMy tongue would falter, words would lose their grace,\nIf unfamiliar with your gentle pace.\nSo let me listen, deeply, day by day,\nTo what your silent wisdom has to say.\nThen, when the moment calls, the need is dire,\nI'll speak your essence, fueled by inner fire.\nNo hesitant stammer, no uncertain tone,\nBut truth's clear echo, finally my own.\nFor habit builds the bridge from thought to deed,\nAnd listening plants the honest, potent seed.\nSo I shall listen, till my soul is tuned,\nAnd then, dear Truth, your message is communed.", 'probability': 1.0}

{'response': "Truth! I shall speak you if I am in habit of listening to you,\nNot as a sudden guest, but as a constant hue.\nA whisper in the morning, a murmur in the night,\nYour quiet wisdom guiding, setting all things right.\nFor how can lips articulate what the heart has never known?\nHow can a seed take root if it's never truly sown?\nMy ears, they must be open, attuned to your soft call,\nBefore my voice can echo, preventing any fall.\nI'll seek you in the silence, in the rustle of the breeze,\nIn the quiet contemplation, amongst the ancient trees.\nAnd when your gentle rhythm has settled in my soul,\nThen I will speak your essence, making the fractured whole.\nNo fleeting inspiration, no momentary zeal,\nBut a deep, abiding resonance, a truth I truly feel.\nSo let my spirit humble, my senses keen and wide,\nTo hear your subtle promptings, with nowhere left to hide.\nThen, only then, dear Truth, will my utterance be true,\nA vessel for your brilliance, forever bound to you.", 'probability': 1.0}

{'response': "Truth! I shall speak you if I am in habit of listening to you,\n\nFor silence often breeds a muted hue,\nA colorless existence, faint and frail,\nWhere honesty's soft whisper starts to fail.\nTo hear your humble rustle, soft and low,\nBefore the winds of doubt begin to blow,\nRequires a quiet heart, a mind serene,\nUncluttered by the noise of what has been.\nI've seen the world embrace a gilded lie,\nWhile genuine insights pass us by.\nBut if I train my ear, my inner sense,\nTo seek your subtle, quiet eloquence,\nTo recognize your rhythm, pure and clear,\nDispelling every shadow, every fear,\nThen from my lips, unbidden, you will flow,\nA spring of clarity, a steady glow.\nNo need for grand pronouncements, loud and bold,\nJust simple truths, in honest words, unfold.\nFor only when I heed your gentle call,\nCan I become your voice, standing tall,\nAnd share the wisdom that you freely give,\nSo all who listen, truly learn to live.", 'probability': 1.0}

{'response': 'Truth! I shall speak you if I am in habit of listening to you,\nFor silence often breeds a muted, hollow hue.\nNot born of fear, nor born of grand design,\nBut from a quiet, inward, true incline.\nTo hear the whisper in the rustling leaves,\nThe honest murmur that the spirit weaves.\nIf I have trained my ear to catch your subtle call,\nBefore the clamor of the world enthralls.\nThen from my lips, a genuine, clear sound,\nUnfettered, unadorned, will then be found.\nNo need for struggle, no internal fight,\nJust simple resonance, both pure and bright.\nFor listening first, a fertile ground prepares,\nWhere truth can blossom, shedding all its cares.\nSo let me cultivate this quiet art,\nTo know your presence, deep within my heart.\nAnd then, unbidden, you will flow with ease,\nA natural current, bringing inner peace.\nNo grand pronouncements, just a steady stream,\nReflecting essence, like a waking dream.\nFor truth unspoken, a mere fleeting thought,\nBut truth embraced, a battle bravely fought,\nAnd won by quietude, a patient, open mind,\nWhere echoes of your wisdom I can find.', 'probability': 1.0}

{'response': "Truth! I shall speak you if I am in habit of listening to you,\nFor silence breeds a subtle, creeping lie.\nNo sudden burst, no momentary view,\nBut patient vigil 'neath a watchful eye.\nTo hear your whispers in the rustling leaves,\nTo feel your presence in the quiet stone,\nTo trace the patterns that the spider weaves,\nAnd find your echo when I am alone.\nMy tongue, a servant to my open ear,\nWill shape the sounds your gentle voice imparts.\nNo grand pronouncement, born of sudden fear,\nBut slow unfolding from receptive hearts.\nSo let me cultivate this humble art,\nOf truly hearing, ere I play my part.\nLet not the clamor of the world outside\nDrown out the wisdom that you freely give.\nFor only then, with nothing left to hide,\nCan my own words authentically live.\nTo speak your essence, pure and undefiled,\nRequires a spirit, open, meek, and mild.", 'probability': 1.0}

{'response': "Truth! I shall speak you if I am in habit of listening to you,\nFor silence breeds a subtle, creeping lie.\nMy ears, once deafened by the world's loud hue,\nNow seek your whisper, as the clouds the sky.\nI've learned to sift the clamor, the false gleam,\nTo find the quiet hum, the steady beat.\nNo longer lost in a chaotic dream,\nBut anchored firm, on ground beneath my feet.\nTo speak your name, a sacred, solemn vow,\nDemands a heart attuned, a spirit keen.\nNo hasty utterance, no fleeting 'how',\nBut born of knowing what has always been.\nSo let me listen, deeply, to your call,\nBefore I dare to share you with them all.", 'probability': 1.0}

{'response': "Truth! I shall speak you if I am in habit of listening to you,\nFor silence often breeds a muted hue.\nA whispered thought, a fleeting, soft refrain,\nIf not embraced, will vanish in the rain.\nMy ears, once closed, now yearn to catch your sound,\nTo feel your pulse, where wisdom can be found.\nNo longer deafened by the world's loud plea,\nI seek the quiet hum that sets me free.\nFor how can lips articulate the core,\nIf inner chambers haven't heard before?\nTo voice your essence, pure and undiluted,\nMy soul must first be thoroughly recruited\nTo heed your counsel, in the softest breeze,\nAnd learn your rhythm, bringing inner ease.\nThen, when the moment calls for clarity,\nMy words, like echoes, will reflect your plea.\nNo fabrication, no deceitful art,\nJust truth emerging from a listening heart.\nSo let me listen, deeply, to your call,\nBefore I dare to speak you, standing tall.\nFor only then, with understanding's grace,\nCan I unveil your unadorned face.", 'probability': 1.0}

{'response': "Truth! I shall speak you if I am in habit of listening to you,\nNot as a sudden guest, but as a constant friend I knew.\nFor silence often holds your whisper, soft and low,\nA subtle current in the river's steady flow.\nI've learned to still the clamor, the ego's urgent plea,\nTo let the noise subside, and simply wait for thee.\nNo grand pronouncements sought, no thunder from the sky,\nBut quiet revelations, as moments drift on by.\nIf I have tuned my ear to catch your gentle hum,\nThen from my lips, your honest words will surely come.\nNot forced, not fabricated, but a natural release,\nLike breath exhaled, bringing inner peace.\nSo let me cultivate this quiet, open space,\nTo hear your voice, and find my rightful place.\nFor only then, with understanding deeply sown,\nCan I truly speak the truths I've always known.", 'probability': 1.0}

{'response': 'Truth! I shall speak you if I am in habit of listening to you,\nFor silence often breeds a muted hue.\nNo grand pronouncements, no dramatic plea,\nJust quiet understanding, setting spirits free.\nIf I have sought your whispers in the rustling leaves,\nAnd heard your gentle counsel in the heart that grieves,\nIf I have traced your patterns in the shifting sand,\nAnd felt your steady pulse within my open hand,\nThen when the moment calls, and shadows start to creep,\nMy voice, a clear reflection, will your secrets keep.\nNot born of sudden courage, or a fleeting whim,\nBut nurtured by the quiet, from the brim.\nA tapestry of moments, woven day by day,\nWhere listening carved the path, and showed the honest way.\nSo let me first attune, to your soft, steady hum,\nBefore my tongue dares utter, where your essence has become.\nFor truth, a delicate echo, easily obscured,\nIs best proclaimed by those who have truly heard.', 'probability': 1.0}

The quiet hum, a whisper in the air,Truth, I shall speak you, if I am aware.Not just a sound, but resonance profound,A silent echo, on hallowed ground.For if my ears are closed, my spirit deaf,Your gentle counsel offers no relief.A habit formed, of turning inward gaze,To catch the wisdom in life's winding maze.Then from my lips, no falsehood shall depart,But honest echoes from a listening heart.No sudden outburst, born of fleeting whim,But measured words, from depths where shadows dim.So let me learn to truly apprehend,The subtle currents that your presence send.Then, only then, with purpose clear and bright,Will I proclaim you, bathed in purest light.A sacred trust, a promise I embrace,To be your vessel, in this time and space.

Truth! I shall speak you if I am in habit of listening to you,
For silence often breeds a subtle, creeping lie.
A whisper in the soul, a gentle, guiding clue,
Demands an open ear, beneath a watchful eye.

No sudden burst of light, no thunderclap profound,
But steady, quiet hum, a rhythm soft and low.
If I have learned to heed the wisdom you have found,
Then from my lips, your honest currents flow.

To truly voice your form, unvarnished and sincere,
Requires a patient heart, attuned to every beat.
To banish doubt and quell the rising tide of fear,
And make your sacred presence utterly complete.

So let my inner ear be ever keen and bright,
To catch your subtle call, your essence pure and deep.
Then, fearless, I shall share your unadulterated light,
And sow the seeds of truth, for all the world to reap.

A whisper, soft, a silent plea,Truth, I shall speak, if you speak to me.Not in the clamor, loud and bold,But in the stories, often told,In quiet moments, deep and true,When inner wisdom breaks anew.For if my ears are tuned to hear,The subtle hum, dispelling fear,If I embrace your gentle call,Before I rise, or stand, or fall,Then from my lips, a current flows,The honest seed, the truth that grows.No forced confession, harsh and stark,But light emerging from the dark.A natural rhythm, soft and slow,The words I utter, truly know.So speak, dear Truth, and I shall heed,And plant your essence, like a seed,Within my soul, a fertile ground,Where genuine utterance is found.

Truth! I shall speak you if I am in habit of listening to you,
For silence breeds a hollow, echoing hue.
My ears, attuned to whispers soft and low,
Will catch your essence, make your wisdom flow.
No sudden outburst, born of fleeting whim,
But steady current, from the wellspring's brim.
To truly voice the light you hold so dear,
I must have known your presence, year by year.
Not just a passing glance, a fleeting thought,
But deeply pondered, diligently sought.
For words unrooted, drift like autumn leaves,
While anchored truths, the soul forever weaves.
So let me listen, with an open heart,
Before your sacred message I impart.
Let understanding blossom, deep and wide,
Then from my lips, your clarity will glide.
A practiced ear, a mind prepared to learn,
Is how the truest, strongest words return.
For speaking truth is more than making sound,
It's echoes of the wisdom I have found.

The quiet whisper, oft unheard,Truth, I shall speak you if I am in habit of listening to you.Not a shout, but a soft, internal word,A seed of insight, patiently grew.For silence first must claim its throne,Before the echoes of the soul are known.If I have knelt at wisdom's silent feet,And let your subtle cadence softly beatAgainst the clamor of a hurried mind,Then in my voice, your essence I shall find.No sudden burst, no ill-considered claim,But resonance of your eternal flame.A wellspring deep, from patient vigil drawn,Your voice, my truth, born with the breaking dawn.So let me listen, truly, deeply, long,Before I dare to sing your sacred song.

The quiet hum, a whispered plea,Truth, I shall speak you, if I am truly free.Not free from chains, but from the din,The noisy clamor that resides within.For listening's art, a subtle grace,Requires a stillness, time and space.To hear the echoes, soft and low,Where seeds of understanding grow.If I have tuned my inner ear,To every lesson, banishing fear,Then from my lips, unforced and clear,Your sacred resonance will appear.No grand pronouncements, bold and loud,But gentle streams from wisdom's cloud.A faithful echo, pure and deep,The promises my spirit keep.So let me learn, and truly hear,Before your essence I hold dear,And then, with voice both strong and kind,Your timeless wisdom I shall find.

A whisper, soft, from depths unseen,
Truth! I shall speak you, a faithful queen.
If I am in habit of listening to you,
Then from my core, your essence rings true.
No fleeting thought, no passing breeze,
But steady current, through the inner seas.
For what is voice, if not a vibrant sound,
Of truths discovered, on hallowed ground?
To echo back the lessons deeply learned,
The wisdom etched, the bridges newly burned.
So let my ears be tuned to your clear call,
Before my tongue lets any word enthrall.
For utterance is sacred, a trust profound,
When rooted in the wisdom you have found.
I cannot shout what I have never heard,
Nor share a concept that remains unstirred.
My words are seeds, from soil of understanding,
Nurtured by listening, ever expanding.
So speak to me, dear Truth, in quiet plea,
And then, assuredly, I'll speak of thee.
My voice, an instrument, finely attuned,
To sing the melodies you have crooned.
From silent depths, to open, honest air,
Your sacred presence, I will gladly share.
This covenant, a promise I embrace,
To be your vessel, in this fleeting space.

The echo of the ages, soft and deep,Truth whispers secrets while the world’s asleep.But few incline an ear, a patient soul,To let its quiet wisdom take its toll.For if the habit forms, a listening grace,To seek its voice in every time and place,Then open wide the mouth, without a fear,To speak the essence that you hold so dear.No fabricated words, no polished lie,But pure reflection from a seeing eye.The silent knowing, nurtured, grown, and vast,Emerges then, a truth designed to last.So cultivate the quiet, inner ear,And banish doubt, and quell the rising fear.For only then, when silence breaks its hold,Can truth be uttered, brave and stark and bold.

The quiet hum, a whispered plea,Truth, I shall speak you if I hear your plea.Not just a sound, but a resonance deep,Where silence breathes and secrets keep.For ears attuned to subtle grace,Reflect the light upon your face.A constant hum, a guiding star,Reveals what truly is, near and far.No sudden burst, no trumpet's call,But steady presence, standing tall.A mirror held, a lens so clear,Dispelling shadows, calming fear.To voice your form, so pure and bright,I must first bathe in your soft light.For habit built on patient ear,Unlocks the wisdom, year by year.So let my soul, a vessel true,Be ever open, listening to you.Then from that deep, abiding hold,Your ancient stories can unfold.And every word, a faithful sign,Will echo back your truth divine.

A whispered echo, often lost in haste,Truth, I shall speak you, if I am in habit of listening to you.Not a loud trumpet, but a gentle taste,Of silent wisdom, patiently pursuing.For how can lips articulate the core,If ears are deaf to what the heart has heard?The world's cacophony, a constant roar,Can drown the essence of a single word.So I must cultivate a quiet space,Where inner voices find their steady sound,Before my tongue can find its rightful place,And let the verity be truly crowned.To be your vessel, clear and undenied,My soul must first be open, deep, and wide.

The echo chamber of the soul, so deep,Truth whispers secrets, promises to keep.But if my ears are closed, my mind adrift,No resonant wisdom, no inspired gift.I must incline, a humble, seeking ear,To catch the verity, banish every fear.For only then, when fully understood,Can honest words emerge, as they truly should.A silent vow, to listen and to learn,Before the sacred torch of truth I turn.To speak its essence, pure and unconfined,A mirror held to the inquiring mind.So let the quiet contemplation bloom,Dispelling shadows, chasing out the gloom.For only when I truly let you in,Can your articulation truly begin.

A whispered truth, a silent plea,unheard, it fades, it ceases to be.For if my ear is ever closed,to wisdom's gentle words exposed,then how can my own voice ascend,and truth's pure message truly send?It's not a shout, a sudden call,but quiet wisdom, standing tall.A mirror held, a steady gaze,reflecting light through all life's maze.To speak the truth, I first must learn,the lessons that the ages burn.In every breeze, in every sigh,the honest whispers passing by.The quiet hum of what is real,the hidden wounds that time can heal.So open heart, and open mind,the deepest truths I hope to find.For only then, with understanding clear,can genuine, brave words appear.To voice the truth, a sacred trust,built on the bedrock, free from rust,of humble listening, deep and true,a constant, quiet rendezvous.For what I hear, I then can share,a truthful burden I can bear.

The quiet whisper, often drowned by noise,
Becomes a chorus, filling empty voids.
Truth, a shy bird, will sing its melody,
If my soul's cage is kept in harmony.
No sudden shout, no forceful, harsh command,
But gentle ears, that truly understand.
For every echo, every subtle plea,
I build a bridge from silence, back to thee.
My tongue, a vessel, pure and unconfined,
Will mirror all the wisdom I can find.
The inner voice, a compass, clear and bright,
Guides every word I utter into light.
So let me learn to listen, deep and long,
Before I claim to right a single wrong.
For in that quiet space, where echoes cease,
The truth takes root, and offers inner peace.
And then, unbidden, from a spirit free,
I'll speak the truth, because it speaks to me.

Upon the silent, waiting air,Truth, I shall speak you, if I am in habit of listening to you.For echoes deep, within my soul, you bear,A whispered counsel, steady, strong, and true.No rash pronouncement, born of sudden whim,But wisdom gathered from the quiet humOf life's soft rhythm, where the light grows dimAnd revelation patiently has come.My ears attuned to your faint, nascent call,Before my tongue dares utter your decree,I seek your presence, lest I rise and fallIn empty rhetoric, a hollow tree.For speech unrooted in your fertile groundIs but a noise, a fleeting, empty sound.

Truth! I shall speak you if I am in habit of listening to you,
For silence breeds a hollow, echoing hue.
My ears, attuned to whispers soft and clear,
Discern the honest, banish doubt and fear.
No hurried word, no thoughtless, fleeting sound,
But wisdom gleaned from where true sense is found.
To hear your pulse, your rhythm, strong and deep,
While others slumber, or their secrets keep.
Then from my core, a resonance will rise,
A spoken truth, reflecting in my eyes.
Not forced or feigned, but born of deep accord,
A sacred vow, a well-deserved reward.
For listening first, the groundwork is complete,
To speak your name, so utterly replete.
And in that speaking, freedom I shall find,
To shed the masks that often cloud the mind.
So let the quiet contemplation bloom,
Before the words dispel the lingering gloom.
For only then, with understanding's grace,
Can truth emerge and find its rightful place.

A silent pact, a whisper in the soul,
'Truth! I shall speak you if I am in habit of listening to you.'
For wisdom's seed, in quiet earth must roll,
Before the blossom, vibrant, breaks anew.
The inner ear, attuned to gentle hum,
Of what is real, beyond the fleeting show,
A steady breath, where honesty will come,
And from that wellspring, candid words will flow.
Not born of whim, nor sudden, fiery zeal,
But nurtured deep, in chambers of the mind,
Where echoes linger, secrets they reveal,
A constant hum, the truth I hope to find.
So let me listen, to the still, small voice,
Before my tongue presumes to take its stand,
For in that quiet, lies the truest choice,
To speak the truth, with understanding hand.
No hurried cry, no shout in disarray,
But measured wisdom, patiently acquired,
Through humble learning, day by listening day,
My truthful utterance, genuinely inspired.

The quiet hum, a whisper in the air,Truth! I shall speak you if I am in habit of listening to you,Not the loud boast, nor words beyond compare,But echoes deep, the wisdom passing through.A silent pact, with conscience as my guide,To let your gentle murmur fill my soul,Before the rush of words, where ego hides,And makes the heart a vessel, not a whole.For truth is not a shout, a sudden plea,But patient presence, waiting to be known,A seed that grows in quiet clarity,From soil of stillness, carefully sown.So let me learn your rhythm, soft and low,Before my tongue dares utter what I know.

The quiet hum, a whispered plea,Truth! I shall speak you if I am in habit of listening to you.Not just a sound, but insight deep,A silent promise I will keep.For how can words of wisdom flow,If inner currents do not show?The mind, a vessel, must embrace,The subtle whispers, time and space.No sudden shout, no grand decree,But gentle nudges, setting free.A constant practice, soft and low,Where seeds of honesty can grow.And then, when asked, with spirit bold,The stories of the truth unfold.Not just a echo, thin and frail,But living wisdom, strong and hale.So let me listen, day by day,To what your silent currents say.Then from my core, with purpose true,I'll speak the truth, reflecting you.

The quiet hum, a whisper in the air,
Of truth, a presence, always, everywhere.
Not shouted loud, nor brandished like a sword,
But gently heard, each nuanced, subtle word.

For if I turn a deaf and willful ear,
To silent pleas, to shadows, doubt, and fear,
How can I then, with honest voice, proclaim
The very essence of its sacred name?

Truth! I shall speak you if I am in habit of listening to you,
Not just when convenient, or when skies are blue.
But in the storm, the chaos, and the fray,
When easy answers simply fade away.

To truly know, one must first deeply hear,
Beyond the noise, the clamor, and the sneer.
To let it settle, in the soul reside,
Then from that depth, its clarity will glide.

So let me cultivate a listening heart,
A quiet space, where truth can play its part.
For only then, with purpose strong and clear,
Can I become its faithful, speaking seer.

The quiet hum, a whisper in the air,Truth, I shall speak you if I am in habit of listening to you.Not a shout, but a soft, persistent prayer,A hidden current, flowing, strong, and true.For silence births the wisdom I embrace,A fertile ground where understanding grows,No hurried words, no thoughtless, empty space,But patient hearing, where the knowing flows.And from that stillness, clarity takes flight,A voice unburdened, pure, and unafraid,To share the dawn that conquers every night,The honest vision, carefully displayed.So let me learn your rhythm, deep and slow,Before my tongue dares utter what I know.

The silent whisper, soft and low,Truth! I shall speak you if I am in habit of listening to you.A quiet hum, a steady flow,Before the clamor, loud and new.For truth is not a sudden cry,But patience in the inner ear,A gentle breeze that passes by,Dispelling every doubt and fear.It builds its dwelling, brick by brick,In chambers where the spirit waits,Not in the hasty, passing flick,But through attentive, open gates.So let my soul be ever still,A vessel primed to hear your call,Then from my lips, by grace and will,Your pure, unvarnished words shall fall.No hurried judgment, swift and blind,But wisdom gained from patient heed,A truth that blossoms in the mind,And plants its everlasting seed.

Truth! I shall speak you if I am in habit of listening to you,
For silence breeds a subtle, creeping lie,
A whispered doubt that shadows what is true,
And lets the vibrant essence slowly die.
If I have trained my ear to catch your call,
To sift the clamor, find your steady hum,
Then from my lips, your essence will enthrall,
A clear, resounding, honest word will come.
No hesitant half-thought, no veiled pretense,
But clarity born of a patient mind,
That seeks your presence, builds a strong defense
Against the fictions that the world can find.
So let me cultivate this quiet art,
To hear your wisdom deep within my heart.

Truth, a whisper, soft and low,A seed you plant, then watch it grow.Not shouted loud, nor forced with might,But born of silence, pure and bright.For if my ears are truly tuned,To wisdom's hum, its gentle crooned,Then from my lips, it will unfold,A story ancient, brave, and bold.No sudden burst, no fiery plea,But echoes of what's shown to me.A quiet knowing, deeply felt,Where doubt and falsehood gently melt.So let me listen, truly hear,Dispelling every anxious fear.Then truth, unbidden, will arise,Reflected in my speaking eyes.A trusted friend, a guiding star,Revealing all that truly are.For listening first, then speaking free,Is how the truth takes hold of me.

The quiet hum, a whisper in the air,Truth, I shall speak you if I am in habit of listening to you.Not a loud shout, but a soft, constant prayer,A silent echo, deep within the blue.For words unheeded, fade and lose their might,Like seeds unwatered, never reach the sun.But if I seek your glow, your guiding light,My tongue will follow, when the day is done.No sudden burst, no flash of fleeting thought,But patient learning, year by passing year.The lessons learned, the wisdom dearly bought,Will then emerge, distinct and crystal clear.So let my ears be open, ever keen,To catch your essence, in each passing breeze.Then from my heart, your presence will be seen,And flow like rivers, through the ancient trees.For only then, when truly understood,Can truth be uttered, pure and strong and good.